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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27035725">Of Coffee Cups and Criminals</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/redrvbin/pseuds/redrvbin'>redrvbin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, DC Animated Universe (Timmverse), DCU, DCU (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood: Lost Days</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Batfamily (DCU), Canon-Typical Violence, Coffee Shops, F/M, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Reader-Insert</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:06:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,612</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27035725</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/redrvbin/pseuds/redrvbin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Words bubbled to the tip of her tongue, but were quickly popped as Sionis lifted his hand towards his face, a black-gloved finger held up to his lips, shushing her. Something flickered in her peripheral vision, in the Black Masks other hand a pocket knife flipped open.</p><p>[Y/N] knew in this moment, her cry for help would turn into one for death."</p><p>A Jason Todd / Reader</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Jason Todd &amp; Reader, Jason Todd/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>93</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The newfound silence was the most comforting sound that could possibly be heard at this hour. It was almost 11:00 pm and she had yet to flip the ‘open’ sign to ‘close’. It was an oddly busy day at Gotham Grounds - the local coffee shop just west of the Narrows. To say that it was the busiest day that [Y/N] had encountered thus far would be an understatement. </p><p>The small shop was used to serving thirty, maybe forty customers per day. This bustling autumn night however, [Y/N] found herself running out of coffee, having served well over 100 people throughout the day. Luckily, the young barista had finally used up the shop's total stock, forcing her to close up.</p><p>“Hey IRIS, call Jason.” She called to her cell phone, hands too full with empty cups to dial the number. Cleaning the counter space in the front, she patiently waited for the dial tone to stop, hoping to hear the voice of her boyfriend on the other end.</p><p>After a minute or so, the ringing stopped. [Y/N] stilled in her place, giving her full attention to the call. “Hey, you know who this is, leave a message. Or not, thanks!”</p><p>The [H/C] rolled her eyes, swiftly going back to cleaning. When Jasons voice message finished, she hollered to her phone, “Hi Jay, it's me. Finishing up work right now. Be home in,” She paused, surveying the cleanliness state of the cafe, “eh, maybe a half hour. I hope… anyway, see you then!”</p><p>Juggling the mass of collected cups into one arm, she picked up her cell and ended the call. </p><p>Sleep clouding her better judgment, [Y/N] dumped the cup load into the sink and instead of engaging in her routine cleaning, decided to leave the dishes for tomorrow. If it were any other night, having a load of dirty cups just sitting in the sink would have driven her mad, but it was almost midnight, and all [Y/N] wanted to do was go home.</p><p>Being one of the owners of Gotham Grounds did however give her liberty to leave the shop as she wished and so, deciding that her half-assed clean up was enough, [Y/N] locked the front door and strolled onto the sidewalk, not once glancing back.</p><p>-</p><p>Jason was having one hell of a night.</p><p>First, big old Batdad was being a prick, as always, and lectured Jason to no end. This time it wasn't about his objectively harsh vigilante methods, rather his familial engagement… or lack thereof. Bruce went on about how it was the third family dinner he had missed this week, that Alfred missed him, that he wasn't letting anyone in. Jason had had enough of his father's scolding and abruptly left the cave, not bothering to even take a peek at the case files he originally came for.</p><p>Secondly, just with Jason luck, Black Mask had disappeared. The tracker that Jason had previously put on Sionis’ car no longer had a ping. It seemed to Jason that the idiot had finally caught on and disposed of the vehicle, annoying the vigilante to no end. </p><p>Not only did he have to deal with stupid familial problems, but now his one lead had vanished. On the bright side, Jason thought, this night could not possibly get worse. But of course, he was proven wrong.</p><p>In the midst of his Red Hood business, Jason had ignored the vibrating of his phone - brushing it off as Dick trying to make amends for Bruce’s actions. So when he finally settled atop the Wayne Enterprises building, he then saw it wasn't Dick that called, but [Y/N].</p><p>He quickly redialled her number, hoping that the two of them would not be starting a game of ‘phone tag’. </p><p>“Hello?” </p><p>Jason smiled to himself from under the mask, just hearing her voice was enough to turn a shitty night into something tolerable. “Hey.”</p><p>On the other end, [Y/N] too found herself smiling at his voice, “Hi, nice to finally hear from you.”</p><p>Jason let out a sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, he hated not being able to answer the phone all the time. Truth be told, talking to [Y/N] was the only thing Jason really looked forward to. “Yeah,” He started, “Sorry about that doll. I got kinda hung up at work.”</p><p>This piqued [Y/N]’s interest. Though she knew only as much as Jason was willing to reveal about his ‘night time activities’, any chance he opened up about them intrigued the girl. “Oh?” She asked, “Is everything okay?”</p><p>Nonchalantly, he brushed it off, “Oh yeah, all good. Just a minor inconvenience s’all. Don't worry about it.” </p><p>Upon hearing his insouciance, [Y/N] shrugged off the conversation, nodding into the phone. Jason then turned the questions towards her, “What about you love? What’re you up to on this lovely Gotham night?”</p><p>[Y/N] laughed at his sarcastic tone, “Just getting home now actually.” She started, only to be interrupted by Jason’s surprised outburst of, “really?”.</p><p>She nodded into the phone again, then remembered that alas - Jason could not see her, “Yeah, really. It was like scarily busy today. I’m pretty sure all of Gotham, hell, maybe even Metropolis too, all came to grab coffee today.”</p><p>Jason let out a low whistle, “Damn, guess I missed the memo.”</p><p>[Y/N] chuckled as she dug a set of keys out of her jacket pocket. The coffee shop was not too far from her apartment, luckily, and she had been a good ways through the trek when Jason called. “I know, I hoped to see you stop by. Tim came, by the way, it was nice to see him.”</p><p>Jason knew that she didn't intend for there to be a double entendre within the sentence, but he took it as that. With his closing in on Sionis, he had pulled away from the Batfamily and as an extension, so had [Y/N]. He knew it wasn't fair to her, within the months of their relationship she had gotten close with his siblings. Just because he wasn't investing in the relationships didn't mean she couldn't. </p><p>“Jay?” Her call shook him out of his rabbit hole of thought.</p><p>Jason cleared his throat, “Yeah, I’m still here. That's good… I’m uh, I’m glad he stopped by.”</p><p>Sensing her boyfriends uncomfortability, [Y/N] changed the focus off of his family. “I just got home, do you want to swing by or…” closing the front door, she hung up her keys on the hook, waiting for his response.</p><p>“Uh,” Jason pulled his phone away to check the time, it was quarter to twelve. He sighed, “I don't think tonight, no. Sorry love, it's late and I don't want you waiting up for me.”</p><p>“Jason,” She began to lightly scold, “I told you, I don't mind-”</p><p>Silence gripped the phone line.</p><p>Jason furrowed his brows, waiting to hear [Y/N]’s voice again. After a beat, he spoke, “Doll, you still there?” It was as if metal flooded his veins, cold fear encasing his body until she finally replied.</p><p>“Yes… I- I’m going to have to call you back.” </p><p>Before Jason could even get a syllable in, the line went dead.</p><p>-</p><p>“Jason,” [Y/N] started as she went further into the apartment, “I told you, I don't mind-”</p><p>Now on most nights when [Y/N] came home, she would be the only occupant in the living space. But she already knew today was not like other days. </p><p>There, lounging against her kitchen island stood a man she’d only ever seen on the news.</p><p>Roman Sionis gave a mocking wave at her frozen frame. Fear seeped into every ounce of her body, words unable to form a cry of help.</p><p>“Doll,” Jason’s voice briefly brought her back, “You still there?”</p><p>She opened her mouth, trying to sift through the mile-a-minute thoughts in her head, trying to form a coherent sentence, a cry for help. </p><p>Words bubbled to the tip of her tongue, but were quickly popped as Sionis lifted his hand towards his face, a black-gloved finger held up to his lips, shushing her. Something flickered in her peripheral vision, in the Black Masks other hand a pocket knife flipped open.</p><p>[Y/N] knew in this moment, her cry for help would turn into one for death.</p><p>“Yes…” She said slowly, searching Sionis’ face for an ounce of approval, “I’m going to have to call you back.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. of coffee cups + criminals - two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>[Y/N] stood statue-like in her apartment living room. Since hanging up on Jason, not another word had been uttered. </p><p>Sionis had finally moved from his spot, now opting to move around her kitchenette. Her eyes remained clued on the criminal before her.</p><p>“So,” The Black Mask finally spoke, “Miss… [L/N], is it?”</p><p>Of course, [Y/N] comprehended his words, but fear disabled her ability to reply. </p><p>The masked man gazed expectantly upon her, waiting for her response. Roman chucked to himself, it seemed that his confrontations always happened this way. Approaching her, he stood within an arm's length, eyebrows raised in waiting.</p><p>“Well?” He drawled out, clearly bored, it seemed to [Y/N] that he had done this more than once.</p><p>“Yes.” Her voice was barely above a whisper and she feared that maybe she had said it in her head. That was until Roman clapped his hands together, seemingly  happy with her answer.</p><p>“Wonderful,” He sauntered back to the kitchen area, gloved fingers lingering on the countertops, “I have to say, we did have some difficulty tracking you.” </p><p>As the words sank in, she watched as he took - what she assumed to be - a phone out of his jacket pocket. </p><p>Curiosity getting the better of her, [Y/N] let out a hushed, “What?”</p><p>Sionis, to be frank, found her quite humorous. When he usually came to set a record straight, the sorry Gothamite he encountered was often hostile, whipping out whatever protective items they had. [Y/N]’s reaction was vastly different from any one he had come into contact with thus far.</p><p>“Oh yes,” He started, all the while scrolling through the files Mr. Li had sent him. “[Y/N] [L/N], 21 years old, originally from Metropolis…” Sionis looked up from his phone, he smirked at her, “Fan of the Man of Steel I presume?” </p><p>[Y/N] swallowed the fear rising in her throat as Roman continued to lazily look at her information. She stood as still as she possibly could, but her mind was racing. Millions of thoughts as to how to escape, how to run, how to get to Jason, swarmed her head.</p><p>An annoyed sigh followed by a slam shook her out of her thoughts. “So much information on you, yet so little telling me what I want to hear.” Sionis brought a hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. It was unlike his informants to have this little confirmation on [Y/N]’s allies, it was as if he couldn't connect her to anyone.</p><p>Then, “Look-” He started, walking towards her once more, “You seem like an upstanding girl, my men reported that you make a damn good cup of coffee,”</p><p>He continued his monologue, but [Y/N] had tuned out. Of course - she thought - Of-fucking-course. Literally just her luck that the only reason for the shop to be busy was through the workings of the criminal underworld.</p><p>A harsh grip brought her back to the situation. The Black Mask had his clothed fingers wrapped around her forearm, squeezing with enough force to bruise. “Well!?”</p><p>[Y/N] looked at him, confusion clear on her face, “...huh?” </p><p>Roman all but growled,fingers tightening their hold, “I’m sorry dear, I didn't take you for an incompetant fool.” </p><p>Surprised at his newfound hostility, she tried to pull away - only angering Sionis further. “Now, I am going to ask again. What do you know about the Red Hood?”</p><p>The Red Hood.</p><p>She knew of the infamous vigilante, of course - all of Gotham did. </p><p>“I-I- I don't know, just, he’s like,” [Y/N] sputtered for an answer, unsure what to say to keep Roman at ease, “He works with the Batman! I know that…” </p><p>Unfortunately, this was not what Roman wanted to hear. “I know that, you idiot!” He grit out, throwing [Y/N] from his hold. The girl stumbled back, nearly falling to the floor. She braced herself onto her knee, keeping her from falling forward.</p><p>The Black Mask stalked towards her crouched form and gripped her chin, forcing her gaze to be on him. He gave her a sickening smile, “Let me rephrase the question for you, and this time give me a competent response.”</p><p>Roughly releasing her face, he stepped away and took the switchblade out of his pocket once more. “What do you know about the Red Hood…”</p><p>Helplessly, [Y/N] began to protest, “That’s the same questio-”</p><p>Roman waved the blade back and forth, tutting at the girl before him, “Tsk, I didn’t finish. What do you know about the Red Hood, personally?”</p><p>[Y/N] didn't fail to hear the implication in his question. He phrased it as though the two had history, as though [Y/N] and this Red Hood were in cahoots with one another. </p><p>“I’m telling you,” She pleaded, “I don't know him. I-I don't know who you think I am, but I’ve never even met this guy!” </p><p>At that, the Black Mask scoffed, rolling his piercing eyes, and began to pace. “So…” He hissed out angrily, “So you’re telling me that, this-” Roman shoved his phone towards [Y/N]’s face, a picture bright on the screen. “Isn't you?”</p><p>It took a second for her eyes to focus on the screen in the dim apartment. But even without pure vision, [Y/N] already knew the answer. She could immediately recognize the picture.</p><p>It was on the corner street near Robinson Park. It was ‘their’ spot. When she got off of work at 4:00, Jason would meet her there, the two walking home together. </p><p>The image displayed her, bag slung on her shoulder, tiredly waiting for Jason to show.</p><p>[Y/N]’s throat was dry, but knew a response was expected, pushing through - she squeaked out a small, “Yes.”</p><p>Roman narrowed his eyes, “No?” He then laughed, the sound eerily deep and stunning, “‘No’ she says!” </p><p>In a second, he towered over [Y/N], stained cafe apron clutched in his fist, pulling her up towards him. “Do you think this is a joke? Think I’m here on a friendly visit?”</p><p>[Y/N] shook her head frantically, pulling her head as far back as possible, “N-No! No, I mean, Yes, yes that's me but no - no I don't think it's a joke.”</p><p>Sionis loosened his hold, now leaving [Y/N] at an arm's length from him. Just when she began to think she was out of the woods, the silver butterfly knife made its true appearance. The gangster held it in front of him, pointing the sharp tip towards [Y/N]’s chest.</p><p>“I’m done with the games.” Was all he uttered. </p><p>Unsure of what to say, the terrified girl stayed silent. This apparently was on the list of ‘ways to piss off the Black Mask’. Her lack of response elicited another groan from Roman, thus annoying him to the point of no return.</p><p>Raising the blade, he traced her jawline - not hard enough to cut, only to instill fear. “You have one of two options, you either spill what you know about the Hood or…”</p><p>The smile that appeared on his face let [Y/N] know that no, she didn't really have an option here.</p><p>“I spill your guts.”</p><p>It was a lie, but she didn't know that. Roman knew that she meant far more to him alive than dead. They had already established that the deal was a life for a life. The Black Mask wasn't stupid, he knew who he was making business with, he knew not to fuck this one up.</p><p>[Y/N] however, was unaware of this promise. Upon hearing the threat, she let out a strangled sob, a feral cry of helplessness. There was no way she would be getting out alive, she didn't know a single thing about this hooded vigilante.</p><p>“Please!” tears now flowed freely down her face, “I promise you, I don't know anything about him. Just let me be.” Backing up, [Y/N] tried to put as much distance between the two, “I won’t tell anyone you were here. I- I’ll just go in my room and act like nothing happened. Please, I promise.”</p><p>Though [Y/N]’s whimpering brought immense joy to the masked villain, Roman had heard enough. He was running on a time constraint and if he wasn't to deliver the package within the night, the Red Hoodlum wouldn't be taken care of.</p><p>“You had your chance,” Sionis nodded to the shadows, and to [Y/N]’s surprise, out walked two men. How she hadn't noticed them before, beats her - but here they were in all their large and intimidating glory. “I’d like you to meet my men, Miss [L/N]. Rick, Leon-” He lazily acknowledged the two, “Please grab the girl and bring her up to the roof. Our ride awaits.”</p><p>As the two men stalked towards her, [Y/N] silently debated her options. One being she lets the Mask take her and she dies, and two, she makes a run for it and she dies… probably. Either option seemed like a loss and so with all her common sense left back in Metropolis, she made a beeline to the door.</p><p>Unsurprisingly, the three felons didn't seem at all phased by this fruitless attempt at evasion. Roman didn't so much as have to jerk his head towards her fleeting form for the two large goons to get the memo. </p><p>Almost at unhuman-like speed, the largest man, Rick, grabbed hold of [Y/N], easily pulling her further from the safety of the door. With minimum effort, he twisted her struggling form into a headlock, both arms braced around her upper body. </p><p>[Y/N] clawed at the man's vice lock, doing everything in her power to gain control. If she learned anything from her years in Gotham, it was that in situations like these, the one thing you need to survive is control. </p><p>Alas, it seemed as though tonight was anything but controllable for [Y/N]. ‘And for what?’ She found herself thinking, ‘All because of a stupid fucking vigilante she doesn't even know?’ Normally, she was not one to get angry, but after a moment of introspection, she then realised how fucked her situation was.</p><p>Resorting to the last possible tactic, [Y/N] threw out every ounce of hesitance in her body and bit down onto Ricks arm. Maybe it was in pure shock, or just plain disgust, but Rick immediately uncurled his arms, freeing [Y/N] from his hold.</p><p>With no time to gloat at her self defense skills, [Y/N] once more raced to the door, already feeling the sense of safety at her fingertips.</p><p>But like all good things, this quickly came to an end.</p><p>Right as her hand gripped the door knob, the cool metal slipped from her grasp, a rough tug pulling her back. On instinct, she brought her hand up to her head - the source of the painful yank. Someone had pulled her back by her hair, the stinging pain slowly spreading about her head.</p><p>Before she could even wonder who the perpetrator was, Sionis’ stygian face came into view. This time, he feigned a look of sorrow, though an obvious hint of pleasure shone through. “Look, I really didn't want to have to do this, but you’re not making my life a whole lot easy.”</p><p>[Y/N] didn't have a chance to question what ‘this’ was. That was until the brass-knuckled fist made contact with her temple.</p><p>-</p><p>Jason knew something was wrong when she hadn't picked up the first three tries. Though he had not totally let her into his past, [Y/N] knew enough to pick up on his anxious tendencies.</p><p>It was an unspoken code in their relationship. If someone didn't pick up within three calls, without prior reason, it was expected of the other to call the GCPD. Or, in Jason's case- The Red Hood.</p><p>After her abrupt hang up, Jason had gone back to his safe house, deciding it would be better to track [Y/N]’s cell rather than worry the whole night.</p><p>It was now thirty past midnight, almost an hour since her last call. Jason, though he wanted to, didn't immediately jump into action as the tracer was pinning [Y/N]’s phone location to be in her home. </p><p>‘Maybe she fell asleep?’ Jason thought in a sorry attempt to calm his worries. ‘Highly unlikely,’ He retorted to himself, of course, it was a common occurrence to be his own worst enemy.</p><p>His anxieties finally getting the best of him, he re-dawned the scarlet helmet and headed out the door, not without strapping a few extra guns onto his person.</p><p>Jason had only set up this safe house when he and [Y/N] had started dating. She lived closer to the Narrows, as a result of cheap rent and close distance to the coffee shop. But Jason, who mostly dealt with the Diamond district and sometimes Amusement Mile, couldn't have been farther from [Y/N]. So, using up some of the money he had nabbed off of Cobblepot’s latest (terminated) heist, he purchased a small storage location just a block from her complex.</p><p>It had only taken Jason ten minutes to arrive at her apartment, the benefit of having a grappling gun. Before even entering the door, Jason knew something was wrong.</p><p>Normally, when he came to visit late a night, he could see light seeping out from under the door crack. Tonight, however, it was jet black. Opting to pick the lock instead of acting on his urge to kick down the door, Jason silently toed into the room. </p><p>The silence only confirmed his thoughts. </p><p>Even in the depths of night, [Y/N]’s house was not quiet. Music, TV chatter, a podcast even, just something was always playing. The eerie stillness shook him to his core, his anxiety spiking the further he crept into her home. Upon brief inspection, he was able to deduct that she had been home… but not alone.</p><p>Several pairs of shoeprints littered the floor. He could easily recognise her’s, the small curves in between the outline - definitely [Y/N]’s boots. But he struggled with the three others. It was not that [Y/N] didn't have any friends, she had many - but they were back in Metropolis, surely they wouldn't show up at midnight at random.</p><p>Jason scrunched his eyes closed under the mask. Leave it to him to be the one whose girlfriend disappears. Comparison crept back into his head, “Dick’s never lost Barbara, Tim and Steph are always together… Even Bruce can contact Selina when needed…” </p><p>The ugly thought of ‘WHY ME’ was plastered behind his eyes, but he shook it off. [Y/N] was his top priority right now, not his own insecurities.</p><p>Accepting that this may be bigger than his detective skills, (Jason had always considered himself more of a fighter) he fished something out of his leather jacket. Entering a number he thought he never would, he connected the phone to his coms.</p><p>“Hey, it's me…” A breath, then, “I, I think I might need your help on this one.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. of coffee cups + criminals - three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Waking up whilst tied to a chair was not on [Y/N]’s to-do list. </p><p>Groggily, she tried to look around the dimly lit space - though found it nearly impossible to open up her eyes. The front of her face felt hot and sore, a temporary reminder of the punch she had endured. </p><p>Pushing through the searing pain, she opened her swollen eyes to the best of her ability. From what [Y/N] could make out, it was a large room - the ceiling nearly impossible to see. The space around her seemed to be crowded. Multiple different crates littered the area, some open - their covers tossed among the floor, others stacked atop each other. </p><p>Based on the minimal sight of her surroundings, [Y/N]’s best guess at her location was a warehouse. Though, that didn't really help her narrow down exact places as Gotham was full of warehouses. </p><p>Assuming that the Black Mask was smart enough to operate in secrecy, she knew that the warehouse wouldn't be one near Gotham Square. No, it must have been near the outskirts of town, maybe even close to Blüdhaven. </p><p>“...my end of the deal.”</p><p>A voice sounded from the far right of the room, [Y/N]’s head snapping towards the sound. It was just light enough to make out a few figures, one animatedly talking.</p><p>“I told you, I always keep my word.” </p><p>[Y/N] could easily tell who the baritone belonged to. Hell, it was the last thing she had heard, right before that fucker punched her in the face. Sionis grew closer, his conversation now clearer to her ears. Deciding it better to be found asleep, rather than face the criminal again, [Y/N] drooped her head, feigning a deep slumber.</p><p>“Not sure why you think she’s needed, didn't seem to know a lick about the Hood - but if this is all I gotta do to make sure he's taken care of… She's all yours.”</p><p>The small group was now mere feet in front of her, all the members oblivious to her eavesdropping. Risking it, she peaked open an eye in an attempt to count the pairs of feet.</p><p>One, Two, Three… </p><p>On the fourth pair, her breath caught in her throat. </p><p>She didn't believe it.</p><p>There was just no way.</p><p>And then in one quick sentence, Roman Sionis confirmed her fears.</p><p>“Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. J.”</p><p>-</p><p>Seven hours, thirty-two minutes and 12 seconds since the last time he had heard from her.</p><p>Jason was officially starting to panic. After phoning, dare he say it, Batman, he had sent a signal to the rest of the family - putting his own hubris aside to get [Y/N] back safely.  Though, that was over 6 hours ago.</p><p>Dick and Damian had gone to Blüdhaven, expanding the search effort outside of Gotham. Meanwhile, Tim had been instructed to remain in the cave and access each and every public camera in the city in hopes to catch a glimpse of [Y/N]. Steph stayed too, wanting to be on guard just in case Tim found something. Cass and Duke briefly went out on recon, but came back empty handed. The only two that were actively on the scene were Jason and Bruce. The distant father and son duo had spent the waking morning on the roofs of Gotham. </p><p>Currently, Batman stood with his back towards Jason - getting intel from Oracle through the cowl. It had been like this for a while now, Bruce would silently get filled in whilst leaving his son to wonder what Barbara had said. Jason had just about had enough, it was his search after all, no one would be involved if it weren't for him. They should be filling him in, not Bruce.</p><p>“You ever planning on filling me in, old man?” Jason finally spoke. He leaned against the rooftop ledge, angrily (and anxiously) drumming his gloved fingers against his leather coat.</p><p>Bruce grunted as a reply, acknowledging his son's question, but not bothering to turn around.</p><p>Jason, with years of practiced impatience, scoffed and tapped the side of his helmet, tuning into the comlink. “Oracle, do me a favour - quit talking to Bats and actually tell me what's going on.”</p><p>He almost cringed at the harshness in his tone. He had never had anything against Barbara, if anything he felt closer to her than anyone else in the family. Shared trauma tends to do that to a person. Nonetheless, the secrecy between her and Bruce was getting on his nerves. He knew the longer he was out of the loop, the longer it would take to find [Y/N] - and that was the opposite of what he wanted. </p><p>“...Red Hood, I don't know if that's the best course of action right now. I think letting Batman handle this would-” Jason was quick to rebuttal, the notion of letting Bruce handle anything set him off.</p><p>“I’m sorry Babs - But last I checked I asked him for help, not the other way.” The name drop, Jason will admit, was immature. Though the line was secure, he knew better than to expose identities. Sighing, Jason apologized, “... Sorry Oracle, that was on me. I just… I just need to find [Y/N].”</p><p>It wasn't often that Jason shared his true feelings with the Batfamily, thus this admission of truth was a pleasant surprise to Barbara. The older woman then spoke through her link, “It's fine Hood.” She then turned her words to Bruce. “I- I think he's right Batman. It is his case… He deserves to know everything.” </p><p>Maybe it was admiration for Barbara or maybe it was the swell of ‘I told you so’ to Bruce, but Jason, for the first time since [Y/N] had disappeared, felt hopeful. </p><p>Bruce finally turned around to face his son, who in turn titled his head in earnest. “Oracle,” The older man voiced, “shut off the coms.” A click resounded inside the two mens headsets, signaling the radio silence.</p><p>“Before I disclose the information, I need a promise.” Though he donned the cape and cowl, Jason knew that this was not the caped crusader asking for a promise, but his father. As civil as he could be, Jason nodded for him to continue. “I need you to promise me that you won't go running into wherever, that you won't let your emotions get the best of you.” </p><p>The former Robin wanted to scoff, but opted for rolling his eyes under his mask. Bruce was being ridiculous, “This isn't fucking Serejavo, alright?” He knew that he stuck a nerve, he could see a fraction of a flinch from his mentor. “I’m twenty-two, not fifteen - remember? Or do you have me confused with another one of your child soldiers?”</p><p>Uncomfortable silence ensued between the two, the seconds ticking by as Jason quietly wished for [Y/N] to be by his side, making this time spent with his adoptive father tolerable. </p><p>Bruce’s response was monotonous, practiced as to not show emotion, “That's enough. We’re on a life or death search, this isn't time for a pity party.” </p><p>‘Okay, Ouch.’ Thought Jason, ‘Thanks for rubbing salt in the wounds, really great work there B-man.’</p><p>Having had enough of this familial crap for the day (lifetime it felt like), Jason conceded, “Just get on with it.”</p><p>Heaving a sigh, Bruce took a small tablet out from under his cape. He handed it to Jason who quickly sifted through all of the information. It was chocked full of files, pictures, videos, fingerprints, fuck - blood samples. He perused more and more, going further into the database and then - </p><p>Jason thought his heart stopped, again.</p><p>He felt as though all the air had been pulled from his lungs.</p><p>File 104 out of 305: a single strand of acid green hair paired next to an unknown fingerprint.</p><p>“Nightwing found it while crashing a drug trade.” Bruce stated, tone calm and collected.</p><p>At that, Jason's brows furrowed, “That's not usually his M.O. Drug trades were never his thing.”</p><p>‘No,’ A sick voice hissed in Jason's head, ‘Brutally beating a child to death is though!’</p><p>Batman nodded, “Correct. He didn't conduct it. The Black Mask did.” </p><p>Roman Sionis, that fucking dweeb. </p><p>Jason had had a personal vendetta against him ever since his successful take over of the Gotham underground. In the past, he wouldn't have paid a second of attention to that idiot, but once Falcone dipped, the crooks of Gotham were his for the taking. Sionis seemed to think that just any ‘Roman’ could replace ‘The Roman’. </p><p>“What's this got to do with [Y/N]. I don't have time for an extra case, if you haven't realised, my girlfriend-”</p><p>Bruce was quick to interrupt before Jason continued one of his heated tangents, “We have reason to believe that he and Black Mask are working together.”</p><p>Jason stayed silent, for the first time actually wanting to hear what Bruce had to say. “That being said, rather, we believe Black Mask has hired…” The older Wayne looked at him head on, trying to gage his emotional response before he pressed on, “We think he has hired the Joker.”</p><p>It was involuntary, just an ingrained reaction for him to tense up at the mention of the Clown Prince of Crime. Maybe his constant thoughts of [Y/N] were clouding his detective skills, but he had yet to make a connection - or maybe he knew exactly where Bruce was going, but refused to even think of the implications.</p><p>“So what are you saying…”</p><p>The dark knight closed his eyes, composing himself before giving the final blow.</p><p>“I am saying, Black Mask has hired the Joker… to get rid of you.” Even with the mask on, Bruce could sense the indignance oozing from Jason, he held his hand up to silence him and continued, “You’ve been severely depleting the Black Masks profits - he’s losing grip of the crime world. He’s deemed you as the one thing stopping him from complete control, and he's desperate. So desperate that he's hired a maniac to do his bidding.” </p><p>Taking another deep breath, Bruce let the information he had been keeping in, spill out, coating Jason in its toxic bearings. “The Joker knows you, as much as I hate it - he knows you better than any other criminal out there. He knows how to get to you. He knows your weaknesses. He knows your strengths, and he knows your allies. Even Jason Todd’s allies.”</p><p>And just like that, the small ounce of hope that Jason had felt earlier, diminished to nothing.</p><p>He would have taken being blown up again than this.</p><p>“Where is he?” Was all that Jason could muster. </p><p>Bruce immediately shook his head, “No, Rob- Red Hood, I told you, you promised not to go in like-”</p><p>“Like last time?” Jason interjected.</p><p>Under the cowl, Bruce's face felt hot, unexpected embarrassment rising to his cheeks. “I didn't say that.” He grit out.</p><p>Jason finally let out the over do scoff, “But you meant it.” He then approached the larger man, leather gloved hand stretched out, “Now give me the fucking location.”</p><p>Though Jason was the closest to Bruce's build within the family, the older Wayne still had a height advantage on him. He stared down at his son, piercing eyes glaring at Jason to ‘stand down’.</p><p>Lifting a hand to press the comlink on, Jason spoke into the helmet mic, “Oracle, send me the Jokers coordinates.”</p><p>Before Bruce even got a chance to interrupt Barbara's channel, Jason had received the map, location locked in.</p><p>Jason backed away from the Bat, crossing over to the ledge once more, grappling gun at the ready.</p><p>“Jason!” </p><p>Annoyed, he turned around to catch a glimpse at his mentor, expecting to be yelled at or lectured. Surprisingly, Bruce gave him a tight-lipped nod, then - “Be safe.”</p><p>Not bothering to acknowledge his fathers - what he assumed to be - half-assed facade of care, he swung to the next building, ready to get his girl back.</p><p>Bruce knew that two words wouldn't make up for all the hurt he's put Jason through, but it was the most he could do at this moment. He was afraid, he was worried, he was everything a father would be when their child throws themself into danger. Letting out a sigh of built-up frustration, he linked up to Babs.</p><p>“Keep an eye on him, if it gets out of his control - I’m going in.” Oracle gave a hum of recognition, tuning in her cameras to Jason's helmet. </p><p>“Keep him safe… please.”</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. of coffee cups + criminals - four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter four</p><p>How long they had been driving was beyond [Y/N]. After an awfully hostile awakening, courtesy of Black Mask, the trade off had been initiated. One of the Mask’s men had gone behind her, tying a blindfold tight on her - already sore - eyes. From there, what happened was a mystery to her. </p><p>There was a bunch of movement, yet never her leaving the chair. They had carried her restrained form onto - what she could only assume to be - a truck. Placing her down, not gently at all, a loud bang sounded and darkness enclosed the smaller space.</p><p>This, [Y/N] felt, was worse than anything she had persisted through thus far. </p><p>Being punched? Not optimal, but fine.</p><p>Restrained? Okay.</p><p>Left alone in an unknown dark and dank container - not her favourite choice.</p><p>It was more so the fact that she was now aware of who would be accompanying her in said truck that instilled the terror in [Y/N]. He had been uncharacteristically silent since his appearance. Not a single laugh or chuckle or anything. That was what scared her most. It was like entering the uncanny valley, a land with silent Jokers, quiet clowns, everything the prince of Gotham was not.</p><p>Feeling her anxieties start to get the better of her, [Y/N] steadied her breathing - centering herself. If there was anything she had learned from her time with Jason, it was to remain calm in Gotham. Take everything as it's thrown at you, don't let your consciousness morph it into fear. Stay Calm.</p><p>Though her brain was yelling at her to scream, shout, do anything to alert help, [Y/N] knew that it would most definitely gain the attention of those only wanting to hurt. Crossing that off of her mental escape checklist, she tried to upperhand the blindfold. Wiggling her ears, she felt the cloth give a bit. Seemingly not as tight as it had felt, [Y/N] began to furiously shake her head, doing her best to loosen it completely.</p><p>As if a higher power answered her prayer, the right side of the blindfold slipped down, allowing her to peak out that eye. Scrunching her nose, she then maneuvered the left side to fall as well, both eyes now at her disposal. Though, evidently, removing the blindfold was not much help as the area around her was still as dark as can be. </p><p>Turning her neck as far as possible, she scanned her surroundings - trying to grasp onto any detail that could aid her in her escape. In the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of silver. Using all of her might to shuffle the chair she sat in, [Y/N] got closer to the object. </p><p>It was attached to the wall, a small metal lever - one that normally was used to open a moving truck. So she had been right, though the confirmation of her thoughts did little to help her out of her situation. </p><p>If she could just grasp the bar, she may be able to open the trailer - grantering her freedom.</p><p>Once more scooting her chair towards the lever, she leaned forward, lifting her tied arms upward. One of her fingers made contact with the cool metal, not close enough to grab it yet. She bumped back once more, successfully getting a hold of the bar.</p><p>Then it seemed that all hell broke loose. A series of loud bangs and rattles echoed throughout the metal box. The floor shook, little scraps jingling about. The chair [Y/N] sat in bounced as well, moving along the rattling ground. The bar slipped out of her hold the further the chair gilded. That was until she was suddenly rammed back into the wall, the truck all but rolling onto its side.</p><p>She now layed sideways, the wall now acting as the floor. A warm substance had gathered on the side of her arm, when she was thrown against the lever, it had cut her forearm. That's not all it had cut though.</p><p>[Y/N] felt a newfound freedom in her joints, the lever had sliced through the rope holding her hands hostage. So she may have been bleeding, but now she could escape.</p><p>Cheek pressed against the cold floor, she wiggled her arms up and down, gliding the rope off of her wrists. Successfully untangling herself, [Y/N] pushed herself back into a sitting position, beginning to untie her legs.</p><p>A slam sounded from the front of the carrier, freezing [Y/N] in her place. Whomever had been driving now was out of the truck - there was no way of telling how much time she had left alone… that is, if she was in the first place.</p><p>Blocking the horrid thought from her mind, [Y/N] went back to untying the bonds, freeing her legs from the chair. She placed her hand down onto the floor to steady herself, but quicking retracted it, her fingertips now lightly coated in blood.</p><p>Covering her cut with the opposite arm, [Y/N] felt around for the latch. Finally, she felt the circular shape of the metal and pulled up as hard as she could manage with one arm. </p><p>It wouldn't budge.</p><p>Though [Y/N] never considered herself as weak, she knew that this was a two handed job. Pushing through the sting of the injury - she used both arms to move the lever - this time it reacted.</p><p>Light seeped in slowly as the door opened, each stream of sun bringing a sense of safety into the small compartment. The gleam was harsh compared to the darkness [Y/N] had grown used to, forcing her to lift her hand over her eyes, blocking the direct rays. </p><p>The exit slid to completion, the click alerting [Y/N] it was done - that she was free now.</p><p>Uncovering her eyes, she slowly blinked, trying to adjust to the daylight. Vision blurry, she squeezed her eyes shut then squinted them, in an attempt to make out her surroundings.</p><p>Once her vision settled, a low hiss of “oh fuck.” came out of her mouth.</p><p>Standing in front of the open truck, a sick smile plastered onto his face, Joker waved.</p><p>His laugh vibrated around the interior of the metal box, “Wow!” He started, “Quite a show you’ve put on my dear!” Joker clapped his hands, “I didn't take you for a modern Houdini, but brava!” His mock applause continued as [Y/N] stared in awe at the man before her.</p><p>She had only ever seen the Joker in full on the TV or her phone. Being before him without a screen of separation was the most terrifying experience [Y/N] had ever had. If she really were a magician, she would have loved to put on a disappearing act. </p><p>“Well! Since you’ve so nicely done half the work for me,”  The clown now entered the truck, [Y/N] instinctively backing away. He outstretched his hand, “Come along now!” His voice was sing-songlike, horrid and shrill, “Time to get a move on.” Turning in on himself, he muttered, “As I don't think our chauffeur can drive on any longer…” The sentence was followed by his signature haunting laugh.</p><p>The Joker shook his hand, presenting an air of urgency. [Y/N], fear stapling her to the floor, hadn't moved a muscle - not that she would have accepted his hand otherwise.</p><p>Annoyed, the clown rolled his eyes, “Oh come on now. I haven't killed you yet, have I?” He phrased it as a joke, going into a set of hysterics afterward. Then just like that, his straight face was back - as if the episode hadn't happened. Thrusting his hand forward, he wrapped his icy fingers around her arm, pulling [Y/N] out of the truck.</p><p>The grip was not as rough as Sionis’ had been, but [Y/N] let out a wince - pain firing through her. Joker had grabbed her bleeding arm, white hands now wet with crimson. Letting out a laugh he lifted his hand up, inspecting the blood. A sadistic smile etched across his face, he spoke, “Looks like you’ve done more than half the work! Shame, no audience to see it.” He sighed, “Poor stagecraft on your part.”</p><p>Glancing back down at his hand, he shrugged - “Well, can't waste fresh product now, can we?”</p><p>She had yet to utter a single word. At this point she was surprised she was still alive. A finger against her face brought [Y/N] out of her semi-shock. She looked down, the acid stained digit tracing a gory smile across her face.</p><p>As Joker wiped his hands together, spreading the residue onto the other - [Y/N] shakily reached up to touch her face. Her unsteady hand made contact with her cheek, feeling her own blood painted on her skin. </p><p>Until this point, [Y/N] had felt as though she had been handling the situation pretty well. But now as she stood in the middle of a concrete lot, in who knows where, with none other than the Joker as company, [Y/N] felt like the world was caving in. </p><p>Pulling her hand off of her cheek, a sob escaped out of her - the blood on her fingers a final confirmation that this was not a dream. That she wouldn't wake up next to Jason, that she wasn't in some alternate reality - no, it confirmed her fears. She was awake, she was alive and most terrifyingly she was conscious. This wasn't some wack fantasy her brain had made, rather it was life, her life specifically - and she had no control over it.</p><p>“Oh no! Oh no no no.” Joker tsked, furiously shaking his head, “We can't have you crying now! I haven't even had the curtain call!” He rushed towards her, hands outward - immediately going to rub at her eyes. A mix of salt and iron smeared over her face, the blood and tears seeping into her pores. His attempt to stop her from crying failed, the physical touch only pulling more sobs out. </p><p>The Joker, in an outburst of annoyance, gripped at his viridescent hair, “I was going to wait until he arrived, but if you insist.”  Once more grasping her arm, he dragged her towards a decrepit building. He dragged her past the front of the truck, which now she could see had clearly flipped over. The front of the vehicle was the worst, so much so - [Y/N] almost fainted. </p><p>There was blood everywhere, spilling out of the window onto the pavement, splattered against the seat, anywhere there could be blood - there was. It was easy to deduce who it came from. The driver, or rather what was left of him, was clearly dead… and worse - dismembered. </p><p>A sharp pull took her attention away, the Joker not waiting to spare his last victim a glance. Offhandedly he spoke, “Least good old uncle Joker could do. Couldn't have a pure soul like him going back to work for Romie, just didn't feel right.”  </p><p>Trying still to ease her nerves - solely for the sake of her sanity - [Y/N] centered her attention to their new surroundings. He had led her into the building, the disrepair showing the buildings age. After the Falcone family had dispersed Carmines extra funds, the GCPD had gentrified a bit of Gotham in an attempt to get them on the map again. The majority of central Gotham now was pretty decent, so [Y/N] knew that she had been dragged to the edges of the city. Maybe even the Bowery… </p><p>Their steps echoed throughout the room, broken linoleum tiles reverberating with each click of the Joker's shoes. Light peaked into the halls through boarded up windows, the wood rotted and creaking with each blow of wind. In short, the building was straight out of a nightmare. It was exactly like how [Y/N] had imagined all of Gotham to be, prior to moving there. The only thing truly out of place in the dated building was in the back. </p><p>A large makeshift stage had been poorly put together, different materials and nails clashing against one another. A homemade stage curtain accompanied it, also sewed together with multiple fabrics - some plaid, some polka dotted and eerily enough, most stained with a rusty colored substance. </p><p>[Y/N] knew he was a maniac, but had failed to truly grasp the sanity - or lack thereof -  of the clown before her. This was nothing more than a show to him. What she presumed to be her death, was nothing but stagecraft. The last act of a Shakespearean tragedy, though it seems that there would be no knight in shining armour for this damsel in distress.</p><p>On centre stage, there sat a single seat. The set dressings bland, but speaking volumes to the audience in the room. The Joker already knew how this act would end, [Y/N] however, was left guessing, theorizing her role in the show. Would she take the crown and come out a stronger person? Or would her character simply be a pawn in the long game of life, a death with little influence.</p><p>In the midst of her melancholic monologue, the Joker had ushered her up onto the platform - his grin growing larger and larger every step she took. She was in a trance-like state, her subconscious tuning out as a protective measure for what was about to ensue. Shoving her shoulders, [Y/N] was forced onto the chair - now able to see the ‘theatre’ in full. There were rows of crates and boxes, all placed together to mimic a real auditorium. It was almost as if The Joker expected this performance to get a full house.</p><p>The clown then went off stage right, leaving [Y/N] on her own. He hadn't tied her down, but he knew she wasn't going anywhere and deep down, [Y/N] knew he was right. She was far too scared, too shocked to even think about running. Not to mention the gash on her arm, nor the amount of blood lost so far.</p><p>A squeak of wheels alerted her that the rogue was back, and this time not empty handed. The stage now hosted a horrifying bright purple cart, the wheels rusted but vibrant nonetheless. The colour was not the scary part however. On each shelf of the metal rack were several different objects, ranging from a ‘can of worms’ to a meat cleaver. </p><p>As [Y/N] eyed the cart, the Joker walked down stage, arms outstretched in a greeting. “Good evening all!” He yelled into the empty theatre. “Boy, do I have a show for you tonight! Meet our special guest Miss. LN herself!” Doing a stage turn, he gestured to her, “And look folks, she even got all dolled up for us! Isn't that just darling?” A laughing fit followed after, the shrill sound bouncing around the vacant room. </p><p>Crazy as the situation was, [Y/N] couldn't help but wonder, ‘why’, still. Why her? What did this all stem from, her not knowing enough about The Red Hood? Better yet, why was Joker involved? Why was he making this a spectacle for absolutely no one? Though to question the ways of a madman seemed a little mad in itself.</p><p>The laughing ceased, the Joker heading back towards the cart. “Now, I figured since Miss. LN has been such a lovely guest, coming out here to grace us with her presence - we should give her thanks.” He then turned to [Y/N], a wicked smile stretched across his white face, “And what better way to say ‘Thank You’, than a little game?” </p><p>“Lights!” The Joker yelled, a series of clicks and flickers following. A myriad of colorful lights filled the room, some stage lights, some bedside lamps and others random bulbs all connected into an awful collage.</p><p>‘WHEEL OF DEMISE’ was spelled out with lights, the sign hanging precariously on the back wall.</p><p>“That's right all!” The Joker announced as he made his way backstage again, “I’m rehashing my ‘Wheel of Demise’ - just for good old [Y/N] over here.”</p><p>He came back onstage, a gigantic purple and green spinning wheel rolling on the floor behind him.</p><p>“If you’re not familiar with this treat, Miss. LN will spin the wheel and let it decide her gift!” Joker faced the wheel towards her, egging her on to spin it. [Y/N] remained frozen.</p><p>Sighing, he spoke to the ghosts in the house, “It seems as though our talent has gotten stage fright. Not to worry, Mr. J is happy to spin it himself!” </p><p>A sickeningly white hand theatrically grasped the dial, giving the wheel a whirl. [Y/N] held her breath as she watched the choices tick by. </p><p>PINWHEEL PERRIL.</p><p>SILLY STRING SNUFFING.</p><p>BALLOON BEATDOWN.</p><p>ASPHYXIATION.</p><p>FACE PAINT FATALITY.</p><p>The spinning stopped. The arrow, pointed at a bright green box, the purple letters read: TICKLE TERMINATION.</p><p>She released her breath, though at the hands of the Joker, surly tickling wasn't that bad.</p><p>The clown prince frowned, this was not what he wanted. Deciding his audience would get bored by such a bland show, he prefaced, “Well seeing as [Y/N] is the guest, it wouldn't be fair for me to choose. Think of that as a ‘test run’ if you will.” Facing her, he smirked - voice threatening, “Give it a spin, it's not nice to keep the audience waiting.”</p><p>Accepting that she wasn't getting out of here alive anyway, [Y/N] leaned forward, reaching a shaky hand out and spun the wheel.</p><p>It went around and around and around, her getting dizzy at the clashing colors mixing in her vision. Finally, it slowed down and [Y/N] almost let out a cry of happiness, the wheel was going to stop on TICKLE TERMINATION again.</p><p>Joker had caught the small glimmer of hope in her eye, and being the saint he was, diminished it as soon as possible. He would hate for false possibilities to form in her mind. So with a slight motion of his hand, he grasped onto one of the wheels pegs, bridging the spinning to a shortstop.</p><p>Both of the stage presences looked at the wheel, though their reactions were poles apart. [Y/N]’s the face of tragedy whilst Joker’s the face of comedy.</p><p>‘BLADE BEREAVEMENT’ </p><p>“Well, well, well! It seems as though [Y/N] has chosen wonderfully! I know this is always a favourite amongst the house!” He laughed, wheeling the cart towards him. “Now the only question is, which one will be the lucky tool tonight?”</p><p>His pasty hand glided over the assortment of sharp metals, a facade of thought on his face. “Shall it be this one?” He lifted a small surgical blade, the hardware glimmering against the harsh lights. The Joker's expression showed the audience's distaste of the item, he placed it back. “How about… This one!” A larger kitchen knife was in his grip, the edges serrated and sharp.</p><p>As he continued to mime a conversation, [Y/N] was trying to stay awake. Whether it was from the blood loss or just the constant reminder of death on her shoulder - her body wanted nothing more than to shut down. She continued to remind herself why she needed to be awake. [Y/N] thought of escaping, of getting out alive, of seeing the coffee shop again, of seeing Jason again… Jason. </p><p>God, throughout all of this craziness she never thought about how he must be feeling. He's probably at the GCPD right now, reporting her disappearance. Fuck. She was going to die and Jason would never really know why, he would just see the reports of another one of Joker's sorry victims.</p><p>A loud crash broke [Y/N] from her thoughts. Initially, she thought it was the cart, maybe Joker had knocked it over. But upon looking up, she realised that he had heard it too. The clown narrowed his eyes, looking around the spacious room for a sign of the intruder.</p><p>“It’s over fuck-face.” the voice had sounded from above them, “Let her go and maybe I won't kill you slowly.” </p><p>As her confusion grew, the malicious smile she had gotten used to formed itself on Joker's face once more. “Oh ho ho ho! Lookie here audience, it seems like our final guest of honor has arrived!” He clapped his hands together, eyes still glued above them in search of the person.</p><p>A stray can rolled onto the stage, smoke pooling out of it, stinging [Y/N]’s eyes. She coughed and covered her face, then a lightbulb went off. The smoke. Joker can't see!</p><p>[Y/N] stood from the chair, ducking low to the ground trying to feel her way around the stage. </p><p>“We can't have the talent leave! I hadn't called you off stage yet!” His cry took [Y/N] by surprise, as did the grip that came with it. A white claw was now locked around her throat, partnering to the cold barrel that was pressed against her temple.</p><p>“Ever the dramatist you are Hoodie! Just like your father… And I’m not talking about Batsy!” Another clang sounded from the audience, the mystery guest had decided to show themself. </p><p>The first thing [Y/N] saw was the glimmer of crimson. Even through the smoke she could make out its blood-red color, the cool metal of the helmet reflecting the lights. </p><p>“Ah, finally.” The Joker spoke, “You’re just in time for the show. Why don't you take a seat, Jason Todd?”</p>
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